


Swift as a Coursing River

by bushlaboo



Series: Dedicated [12]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, Bromance, Endless Supply of Flarrow Characters Mentioned, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by a Movie, Make a Man Out of You (Mulan Song), Minor Violence, War, i blame lexi, kind of sort of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushlaboo/pseuds/bushlaboo
Summary: Mulan inspired AU. Really do I need to say more? … FINE, to prevent her beloved and ill stepfather from being called off to war Felicity Smoak takes his place. [To blame for this: my newest internet wife, AlexiaBlackbriar13.]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiacresgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiacresgirl/gifts), [BstnStrg13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BstnStrg13/gifts), [babblekween](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babblekween/gifts), [TrueMyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueMyth/gifts).



> When I made my initial list of folks I wanted to write a thank you gift story for these fine folks weren't on it, for a fairly valid reason: I hadn't had the opportunity to read any of their amazing stories when I first made my list. With each new one they've posted I was enraptured and I realize could keep adding folks onto my list of those who deserve a thank you for their spectacular endeavors (and seriously lumping these four together feels like such a copout - you all deserve better!) but eventually all good things must come to an end. This crazy idea I had started with my wifey, Masque, because she inspired me and it feels kind of perfect and natural to end with some newer writers who do the same, because that is one of the best things about the _Arrow_ fandom - it is always growing and giving us more folks to be amazed at and grateful for, so thank you to all the oldies (but goodies) and to new ones we haven't met yet.

**Let's get down to business**

The news of the invasion spread swiftly south-east down the Great Wall of Starling. The Emperor's too many greats to accurately convey grandfather began construction of the massive stone border to protect the kingdom when he’d been a young man newly on the throne. Generations of his family and the people of Starling had seen to the continuation and completion of his work; the final brick having been laid in place five years ago on his numerous great-grandson’s 50th birthday – the life's work of so many concluding with perceived safety from their nomadic neighbors who survived by pillage and plunder.

The League was an elite, shadowy band of warriors who slipped across Starling’s boundaries in the night to erase whole villages. Their constant movement made it impossible to destroy an unfindable base of operations and therefore prevented their ability to attack. The Wall had been seen as the only viable answer to end the threat they posed on the kingdom.

For five years it seemed to work, the kingdom of Starling was safe and at peace. The torches being lit one after another down the long line of the Wall broke that tranquility. The message snaked hundreds of miles carrying the news of invasion. When the report reached the Emperor he directed his army to protect his people, within that edict was an order to conscript a man from each family to serve, to aid in this endeavor.

Age and ability had no meaning; a family had to offer a man for service. It was their duty, their honor. There could be no excuses. A man – for women were not deemed capable of being soldiers – had to serve.

This news came to the community known as the Glades the same day as the annual Matchmaker festivities. All eligible daughters were presented for appraisal and pairing, the intention of their displays to garner a marriage that would bring honor upon their family with the match and by raising the sons of the next generation, seeing to continuation of their mighty kingdom. Felicity Smoak was one such young woman but unlike her peers she had never fit into the role carved out by society for women. She tried, _ever so hard_ , and failed.

Her meeting with the Matchmaker, even with prayers to their ancestors – both her biological and adopted family's – along with all the training she received from her mother and grandmother had not gone well. Disaster was a more apt word for how things went. She managed to anger and embarrass the Matchmaker and the words the woman spat at her, “You'll never bring honor to your family!” felt like a sentence of doom and the worst fate imaginable.

At least that was until the army emissary arrived a short time after her humiliating encounter with the announcement of the invasion and the call-up of men. Her family, the Lance-Smoak household, had one male – had only ever had one – though her mother and father had tried for years after their marriage to conceive a child together. That man was her adoptive father, the only father she had ever known, the one she loved with her entire heart. A man who had already fought bravely for the Emperor and returned home with a weakened heart.

A man who would surely die if forced to return to the army. The thought of losing Quentin Lance, the best man for nearly a hundred miles in any direction, terrified the daughter of his heart to her very core.

The despair she felt over that possibility had led her to speak out of turn in front of the Emperor's envoy. Felicity was still feeling the sting of the reprimand that action had earned her but she could not hold back her tongue. Her father had never insisted on that before and when it was his life on the line she could not believe he would expect her to do so. She broke into the gloomy atmosphere of what could be their last family dinner to question if he truly intended to go off to war.

“It is an honor to protect my family and my country,” he answered her query; it seemed almost dismissively to Felicity. That he was willing to sacrifice himself did not sit easy with her. In fact, she found it unacceptable because she was unwilling to lose him.

“So, you will die for honor?” she shot back angrily, jumping to her feet as her face flushed with indignation.

“I will die doing what's right,” he countered smacking his hands on the table. The dishes rattled and hot tea sloshed out of all their cups. Felicity tried to protest more but Quentin cut her off, pushing himself up from his seated position. His voice was hard as he barked, “I know my place. It is time you learned yours.”

It was a foreign sentiment. Her father had always encouraged her to be herself, even if that meant not following the traditional expectations placed upon women. Just this afternoon, after making a mess out her meeting with the Matchmaker he had soothed her disquiet at failing as only he could; telling her in his own gruff way that she just needed more time. That he had faith in her and her ability to bring honor to their family.

Now with the Emperor's decree he was being forced to leave them and with his ailing heart only certain death would follow his conscription. That he would go without a protest when they needed him here frustrated Felicity beyond belief.

Tears stung her eyes as she faced off with her father over the dinner table. Her mother, who was usually as loquacious as herself, sat silent as did her grandmother. Her father's face was craggy, lined with weariness but he refused to relent. Her heart clenched at his fortitude. Fighting to hold back her feelings Felicity fisted her hands and when that did nothing to relieve the seething cauldron of emotions threatening to boil over within her she turned on her heel and fled the dining room.

***

As night settled in over the Glades a storm swept in, thunder and lightning crashed ominously over the area, mirroring her own internal struggle. The anger she felt for her father hurt, not because they had never disagreed before, but because tomorrow could very well be the last time she saw him. The thought of not being able to push that emotion from her heart, to have him leave with friction between them, kept Felicity up late into the night.

There had to be another way. That thought kept circling in her mind as she watched from the shadows as her father readied his armor – huffing and puffing at its weight – before her mother pulled him to bed. Though her family slept, she knew it was not a peaceful respite. Anxiety permeated their home.

She’d never felt as lost and helpless as she did now. Of course she’d worried over the future of her family before, but it had always been a distant concern … Felicity had faith that everything would work out. She knew now that belief was because her father was there, the perfect even-keeled complement to the more colorful women that surround him.

The women of her family had endured losing the biological father she was unable to remember and if need be they had the wherewithal to survive on their own, but that the very real possibility of needing to do so was being forced upon them by a distant ruler, seemingly indifferent to their situation felt wrong. Cruel even.

Though she had never laid eyes upon the Emperor it was always articulated that he cared about his subjects. Felicity was certain that if she could petition him directly, he would understand and grant her father leniency; but there was no time and no method available to an unwed woman with an unwilling father to see the request passed up through official channels.

Unless something drastic happened her father would leave in the morning, most likely never to return.

Felicity caught herself in the newly polished shine of her father’s helmet. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen, her face splotchy from her tears and with her long blonde tress pulled up in a messy bun atop her head she looked unrecognizable to herself. Barely even feminine.

That startling thought made her gasp. Her heart began to gallop as she considered her wild idea. _Not feminine_. She tilted her head, studying herself through narrowed eyes. Could she … Felicity wondered if it was possible? In her father’s armor with her hair chopped short and her breasts bound, would anyone accept she was a young man? One of those unfortunate, scrawny waifs who’d never developed into the ideal physique of a man.

Biting her lip, she tried to think it through logically, as she did most things, but her feelings clouded her usually reasoned thought process. All she could think was that her father wouldn’t need to go; his weakened heart need not be placed in mortal jeopardy.

If she went – that is all she needed to do to protect him, simply take his place.

Felicity was reaching for the helmet before she even realized she’d come to her decision – she was going off to war in her father’s stead.

 

* * *

 

**Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?**

_I can do this. I **can** do this. I. Can. Do. This. _

The repeated thought pounded through her head in sync with her accelerated heartbeat as she approached the encampment. Her breathing felt constricted with her breasts bound tight and very nearly flat thanks to the added weight of her father’s armor pressing down upon her chest, the extra heft there only amplified the lessor weight above her shoulders. Felicity felt off, somehow imbalanced, having shorn her long tresses to a blunt shoulder length cut that was now tied in a bun atop her head. Her skin felt sticky as well, from the long, frantic ride through the night to the army campsite; but she had decided against scrubbing her face clean, hoping that the dirt would help harden the soft edges of her cheekbones and make her appear older.

Not that age would aid her with masking her gender, but she was determined to use any little thing available to her to ensure that her ruse worked. Dirt was another element that would need to be looked beyond and Felicity prayed to the ancestors that no one would look too closely at her. She took solace in the fact that very few people seemed to look beyond what they anticipated to see and since men were expected she had convinced herself that unless she did something totally egregious everyone would see the obvious – an undeveloped young man ill-equipped for war – and not what she truly was, a desperate young woman.

***

His expansive muscular chest rippled with each controlled movement. His exposed skin was a patchwork of different textures, a map of all that he had endured in his own training and while serving under General Queen – his father. He wasted no extraneous energy as he pulled back the bow. The arrow sailed to its mark, the very top of a high wooden pole that was at the center of the encampment. “Thank you for volunteering Roy. Now retrieve the arrow,” the Captain instructed with an unwavering flint of command in the rich tone of his voice.

The young man she inadvertently got into a dispute with glared at her with icy blue eyes. Felicity sucked in a breath at his hateful glower even as she gave thanks to narrowly escaping his fist slamming into her face moments before. Her naturally awkward disposition had been exacerbated by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells around her, not to mention the masculine clothing draped over her frame, and she’d stumbled into a brawl of her own making because of it.

Getting on the bad side of nearly every man in sight – particularly her superior officer – had not been her intent striding into camp with more gumption than sense. It was, however, the situation she now found herself in as she puffed to catch her breath standing at attention with the rest of her legion as their Captain set about teaching them their first lesson.

The hotheaded solider grumbled under his breath, Felicity thought she heard him make a snarky remark about getting the arrow with his shirt on, as he rubbed his hands together and approached the pole. The sharp cheeked brunette was just about to lunge up the vertical monstrosity when the Captain called out, “Wait! I believe you're missing something.” He signaled Advisor Wells forward, the older man carried a large box which drew his thin shoulders down with its heft. 

Captain Queen, the most perfect embodiment of manhood Felicity had ever seen, opened the scarred green crate and removed two large, stone discs that had leather straps attached to them. “This represents discipline,” he stated sagely to the assembled men, lacing one of the discs around Roy's right wrist.

“The other strength,” he continued looping the other disc around Roy's unencumbered wrist. “You will need both to reach the arrow.”

Roy curled his arms, testing the added weight. He grunted and then with determination he attempted to climb the pole. He made it about seven feet off the ground before the discs proved a hindrance, tugging down on his arms. He scrambled, his nails digging into wood as he yanked himself another few inches before they splintered and broke, causing him to slide down the pole.

One by one their names were called. When shouted out each recruit made their attempt, herself included, under the name Felix. None of them reached the summit of the pole. John Diggle, the only warrior whose shoulders were wider and bulkier than their Captain’s, was the only man who managed to get close. He made it three quarters of the way before his foot slipped. He squeezed his knees trying to reclaim his perch on the pole, but his feet could not find purchase on the smooth wood. As all those before and after him, he fell. Diggle landed with a resounding thump as his backside struck the unforgiving ground.

 

* * *

 

**Mister, I'll make a man out of you**

The thwacking and rapping of escrima sticks generated a steady buzz in the air. Around her, her fellow soldiers’ movements appeared like a choreographed dance -- at least for some of them. Diggle, Joe, and Eddie moved with practiced finesse, this was after all more of refresher course for them as they had all served before. Diggle and Joe had even been on the battlefield as fresh recruits under the command of the Captain's father ten years ago when a southerly neighbor's internal strife had spilled over into Starling and the Emperor had sent forces to quell the intrusion. Her father had served at the same time under another General and though she had been very young Felicity still remembered that uneasy period. It had been her first taste of war and what it meant. It took good people away, ones desperately loved and needed. The fortunate returned home unmarred of body or mind, but they were few and far between. Most returned home with some damage, while still others never made it back. 

Though somewhat stilted by the formality of army training tactics the Quadruple Rs as she called them in her head – Roy, Ray, Rory and Rip – along with Snart managed to maintain speed if not perfect form and accuracy. The same could not be said for herself, Tommy, Cisco, and Barry.

Felicity's stretched and strained under the repetitive motions. She felt sore and was certain by the end of the day she would be a walking bruise, but she pushed through the discomfort with the knowledge that if she failed or was found out she would bring dishonor upon her family. She drew upon her stubborn streak and the great love she felt for her father to compel herself through the training routine.

The baleful glare of Oliver, _their Captain,_ she reminded herself firming her grip on her sticks, watched their stunted and awkward attempts with chilly disappointment. Her lack of grace and force was of little surprise, though her speed – her one asset beyond her resourceful mind, she had been the first solider to complete crafting their sticks to the specifications provided – was waning. Felicity was finding that she had it for only quick spurts and not for the long endurance required of army drilling.

As early morning bled into afternoon her movements became jerky and more off target. "Ouch!" Barry hissed as her downward thrust hit low and rapped his fingers for the third consecutive time. His face was covered in sweat and flushed with exhaustion, much like her own, and really Felicity was grateful for his and Cisco's physical appearance. Their overly young faces and narrowly defined physiques were probably the only reason her charade had not been called into question.

"Enough," the harsh rumble of their Captain's voice filled the air, bringing all action to an immediate halt. He gave a nod of dismissal to Diggle, Roy, Joe, and Eddie who had all but aced the exercise with a few remarks about form and control. The next group made up of the three remaining Rs and Snart were sent for a mile run before they had permission to indulge in their lunch rations.

Coming to hover over them with a fierce frown the Captain ordered her group to continue. Cisco groaned as Tommy offered a toothy grin, Felicity was quickly learning that he was never one to back down from a challenge, even if he was slow to improve.

She and Barry each wheezed a few quick breaths before returning to the jilting movements they were trying to master with fluidity.

***

Felicity knew binding her breasts would be a pain but the addition of not being able to bathe made it worse than she had ever imagined. All that sweat and grime from training was building up and the only appropriate expression for how uncomfortable it made her was ‘ ** _EWW_**.’

Even that truly didn’t encompass how disgusting she felt.

If she wasn’t able to get clean soon, a bucket of water sloshing down on her during one of their training exercises did _not_ meet the requirement of actually being clean, she was liable to give up on her charade attempt if only for her own well-being. No one – not even the motley group of men who surrounded her – was meant to be this filthy.

Her gaze was longing as she eyed the cattail-lined lake at the edge of camp. The rising moon was barely a sliver in the sky and would provide little illumination. If ever to dare a nighttime swim tonight would be the perfect opportunity. There would be just enough light to see by and plenty of inky darkness to mask the truth of her sex when surround by the alluring water.

It would be a risk, she knew. Tempting fate if she was honest with herself and given how things had worked out with the Matchmaker it seemed foolish to even consider it, but she was _desperate_ to be rid of the grime that covered her.

Decision made she moved quickly to her tent to collect her spare blanket. She’d use it to dry off and if the need arose the bulky mass of it would be able to conceal the aspects of her body that needed to stay hidden.

***

 _Failure_.

That was the result of her grand gesture of love and devotion. Felicity risked everything – her family's honor, her father’s disappointment, not to mention her life and all for naught it seemed. After yet another endless day struggling to keep up with the assigned training Oliver, _the Captain_ , ordered her to leave.

The thought of returning home to the Glades, to her family, in disgrace left her heart heavy and distraught. What she attempted to do for the overall good of her family turned out to be futile. Angry tears stung her eyes. Feeling the salty burn of them Felicity was tempted to curse fate and her ancestors. She lacked the graces expected of a dutiful daughter and her effort to find standing outside of that role had come to a bitter and shameful end.

There had to be a way to salvage her plan. That desperate thought was the only one in her head as Felicity swiped at the tears that managed to escape. She sniffled, hating how her display of emotion made her feel even more useless. Weeping would get her nowhere.  Action was needed, a way to prove that she was worthy of staying, of continued training ... of being a soldier in her Emperor's army.

She had been dragging her feet back through camp, towards her makeshift temporary home, when the answer to her dilemma presented itself against the backdrop of a starry night. In the glow of the half crescent moon an arrow jutted out, still embedded in the pole, waiting.

Felicity knew that if she could make it to the arrow there was a chance that the Captain would allow her to stay and prove herself worthy. Her physical performance so far had been lackluster at best, but she knew if she put her mind to it, she could figure out the answer to the riddle that had been placed before them.

Quietly she traversed the path to the armory tent and the faded box that held the hefty discs. After weeks of drilling Felicity dealt with the weight of them better than she had on their first day, but knew even with her slightly improved strength the task before her was a literal uphill – up pole – battle. She wound the discs around her wrists and as with her previous try Felicity attempted to climb straight up the pole. Once again the discs impeded her momentum, dragging her down.

Slamming into the ground with a soft grunt the first tang of frustration lit into her. She had felt that sentiment ceaselessly throughout the various exercises she'd been trying to master. There had been hand-to-hand combat where she barely made contact with her opponent and inevitably ended up flat on her back. Feeding off that sensation Felicity attacked the pole a second time. Determination bought her a few extra inches but again her efforts ended with her on the ground, her bottom and wrists aching. The puffing breaths she took reminded her of lagging behind in their endurance running. The distance covered with simulated supplies got the better of her, so much so, that her Captain disdainfully relieved her of the additional weight before continuing on. Left behind, crouched on her knees in a state of near exhaustion, it took every ounce of her fortitude not to wail out the truth of her nature – that she did not belong there nor should she be expected to meet the extreme standards Captain Queen expected from his men.

Her experiences with survival and evasion training had been equally ineffective, though she appeared to have a decent chance with cannon work until Roy sabotaged her. Felicity had been unable to soften the young soldier's hard feelings towards her after their ill-fated first meeting and he took every opportunity afforded him to hinder her.

As with her training Felicity continued to persist through the pain brought on by each unsuccessful bid because she knew that there _had_ to be a way to tackle the challenge before her. A way to make the discs work for her … it was that tired musing, with her body on the precipice, which finally enabled her to see the solution. Weight and counterbalance, and how use them to her favor.

Though weakened from her earlier efforts Felicity pushed herself to her feet. She swayed slightly, but certainty gave her the boost of energy she needed to wrap the discs around the pole, tying them together. Slowly, but resolutely she used the leverage the combined discs afforded her to climb.

Up and up she went, further from the ground then she had ever managed, until finally she reached the summit. Felicity nearly laughed with delight as she maneuvered her diminutive frame so that she could sit on top of the pole. The uneven surface was hard, but for all the cushiony seating she had experienced this uncomfortable roost was by far her favorite, having earned it with her own ingenuity.

Felicity waited patiently for dawn to break, using the time to catch her breath and rest her screaming muscles. As the first men began to shuffle out into the courtyard cheers went up as they took notice of her location. Their sounds drew more men; the cacophony grew louder until it attracted the attention of their Captain.

Seeing Oliver gaze up at her in astonishment caused a wide grin of satisfaction to spread across her face. She yanked the arrow from its notch and tossed it down at his feet. His intense gaze followed its path to ground; he stood there for a moment – his entire focus on the arrow. The men quieted and snapped to attention as they awaited their leader's reaction. Felicity felt her heart catch, cold fear snagging it. Had her display been too little, too late?

A rich hoot filled the silence as blue eyes lifted and met hers. Oliver, _her Captain_ , was beaming. At her ... with pride. The heady sensation of accomplishment filled her as the men started back up their cheering.

She had finally succeeded and with that first hurdle vaulted Felicity soon tackled the others in front of her. Confidence and newfound camaraderie among her peers enabled swift improvement. Soon she wasn't just keeping pace with her fellow soldiers, in some instances she was out performing them; and Felicity relished each time she earned a look of admiration from her Captain.

 

* * *

 

**Hope he doesn't see right through me**

The order came in the middle of the night, thrusting the camp from their peaceful rest into bustling action in preparation for their travel the next morning. Felicity thought that she had primed herself for the possibility of facing frontline battle but with that reality at hand she was uncertain. She was capable, her training saw to that. Still she was doubtful of her ability to take another's life should it be a necessity.

A buzz of nervous excitement filled the air as they worked. All the time and effort spent improving their skills was going to be put to use; they would be defending their country, their people, each other – and the Emperor himself. “Hurry!” Roy insisted. His usual indifferent expression had been replaced with a grin. Her former nemesis and Diggle had come from the same region and that connection led to the older man to take Roy under his tutelage. It seemed to Felicity that John Diggle had his own side mission: ensuring Roy Harper's survival. Her success with retrieving the arrow and her continued evolution from hindrance to solid solider had finally turn the tide. While she got along with most of the men in camp, save for Wells who found them all unsatisfactory – Captain Oliver Queen included, she had formed a real kinship with Roy, Diggle, and Barry. Often times she found herself thinking of them as hers. _Her boys_.

“Felix,” the impatient bark of her assumed name forced the misgivings from her mind. Her actions turned practiced, though there was an urgency to them, as she stuffed her pack full of the requisite supplies.

Just after first light they marched from their encampment, towards the Lian Yu province, where their General and the enemy awaited them.

***

Their pace was swift as they traversed the distance towards the mountainous region of the kingdom. The idle chatter she engaged in with Barry, Roy, and Diggle kept her mind occupied during the march, as did sharing the majority of her meals with Oliver. Finding herself a trusted friend of her Captain had come has a surprise, but her ingenuity and stubbornness had earned his respect. Following her feat the atmosphere around the camp had changed, even Tommy Merlyn started to take things seriously and started to improve, and that allowed their Captain the opportunity to relax his stern and stoic mask. He allowed himself to crack an occasional smile and even shared a meal with a few of them at a time. He'd become most comfortable with Diggle and herself and now that they were headed towards battle he ate with them unless Advisor Wells demanded his attention.

It was during these moments, the three of them of together, that Felicity felt most like herself. In the evenings, when she was alone in her tent, guilt ate at her. She wasn't lying to them exactly, just _omitting_. A single, teeny-tiny irrelevant fact. Gender didn't define her after all and the friends she made knew her – knew the essential pieces of who she truly was and that is what mattered. Or that is what she told herself when she questioned her continued omission.

There was just too much at stake for her family to offer up the truth and hope for the best.

Four days into their march, deep in the heart of Lian Yu, the almost jovial atmosphere fostered by their sense of camaraderie came to a screeching halt. Faces which had born smiles were now slack and where once the air had been filled with the buzz that only an entire troop moving could create was silent. The scene of devastation laid out before them was agonizing, nevermore so as when the realization that they would not be met with the happy cheers of their fellow soldiers sunk in. The League laying siege to an entire village, leaving nothing but ash was not unheard of, but stories could not capture the brutal heartache of experiencing such wreckage firsthand.

If that that was not demoralizing enough, beyond the crest of the ravaged community was the strewn about wreckage of battle – “Father!” a pained roar echoed out. The wounded sound seemed to hang in the colder air of the province, an endless plea that tore at Felicity’s already tattered heart.

Oliver rushed forward. The crunch of fresh, crisp snow underneath his booted feet seemed excessively loud in the frozen quiet that had settled over their group. The increasing distance he placed between them is what finally spurred Felicity to move. She couldn’t allow her friend to face this macabre vista – his father’s burial ground – on his own. She rushed towards him and based on the sound filling the desolate air she knew others were on her heel.

Felicity came to skidding halt when she saw Oliver drop to his knees. Her eyes darted around the unforgiving landscape searching for the threat which could have laid him low. Upon seeing his unsteady hands, a disquieting first for her, reach out for a dented helmet she grasped that he had not been hit by a physical weapon. The stylized apex of the item proscribed rank, making the helmet Oliver lifted reverently from the scarred ground the General’s. Their General, Robert Queen – Oliver’s father.

Her eyes welled. If the General had fallen it meant every man under his charge and most likely the entire population of the village had been lost as well. The knowledge was overwhelming. Felicity felt a comforting weight on her shoulder; a quick squeeze had her looking up into the despondent eyes of Diggle. He too was fighting back tears. He motion with a jerk of his head to others making their way slowly back to their dropped supplies, making her aware of their position, while indicating with his resolved stance that he did not plan on moving until their Captain did.

She knew their actions had been reckless and could tell by the agitated flailing of Wells’ arms that the returning men were getting lectured on that very fact. Once the shock and pain faded, Felicity knew Oliver would berate himself for leaving his men open and unprotected, but even the best training could fail. Had failed she realized sweeping her gaze back over the wreckage around them. She could only hope that Wells would not pile onto his guilt and that he would allow Diggle and herself to be a voice of reason. In the face of such ruin to have reacted otherwise seemed laughably impossible.

When Oliver got to his feet Diggle dropped his hand and they stood at attention a few feet apart as their commander turned, his father’s helmet still in his hands. Oliver managed to lock his emotions away, the only hint to his feelings were brittle eyes and a tense jaw. He strode towards them without a word. He made no move to pause when he reached them, she and Diggle instinctively joined his step, and the three of them made their way back towards the crumbling, burnt out structures of the fallen village.

Reaching its outskirt Oliver stopped, with one hand he held the last remnant of his father and with the other he pulled out his sword. He plunged the blade into the ashen earth with a powerful thrust and knelt before it. With utmost care he placed his father’s battered helmet on the handle of the sword before lowering his head in a further display of mournful respect.

It was during his silent and moving act that Felicity caught a burst of color among the blacken debris, a dingy hue pink. The scrap of color fabric was a dress attached to a cloth doll. Her heart nearly caved as she studied the child’s toy. The reality of what had been lost in this place was devastating.

She barely noticed when Oliver stood or when he and Diggle moved off towards the other men who’d aligned themselves back into marching formation. It was the harsh order to move out that finally penetrated her grief-stricken mind. Felicity stepped forward, but not to take her assigned place, rather to scoop up the little doll. She brushed it quickly with her fingers, trying in vain to remove some of the damage done to it, before resting the doll against the blade of Oliver’s sword. She bowed before the makeshift memorial, paying homage, before scurrying off to rejoin her fellow soldiers.

***

Her doubt turned out to be misguided. When the critical moment came Felicity did not flinch, she acted. Strategically.

The League’s forces caught up to them at the Yao Fei Pass. Oliver had led them there because it was the swiftest route into the heart of the empire and Star City, the home of the Emperor. Whether they’d be forced to combat Ra’s al Ghul and his men – in an attempt to keep the enemy force from descending on their ruler – or would be able to ferry a message for additional troops and fortifying the city remained the only unknown.

The mood had been tense, every man on edge. Felicity was certain it was the anxious energy that elicited the clumsy mistake that left them with a minimal arsenal and their location exposed.

Down to their last cannon, facing a heavily armed enemy horde charging down on them from the high ground, Felicity did the only thing she could – she commandeered the cannon and rushed towards their foes. Against the protests of her Captain she pressed onward, her lungs and muscles laboring, knowing that she needed to be closer to get the best angle to fire upon the snow-laden mountainside.

Once she was near enough Felicity dropped to her knees and readied their one shot at salvation. Her numb fingers struggled to light the fuse. The sense of peril and impending disaster made the simple task all the more complicated.

The spark nearly came too late, but it did finally come.

The cannon launched moments before Ra’s al Ghul descended upon her, the force of it flying pass knocking him from his steed. Panting in sharp, icy air she watched it hit the mountain with a muted thump and for a terrifying moment Felicity thought she had miscalculated. A vicious crack sounded, followed by a thundering roar as massive amounts of snow broke loose from its precarious perch and tumbled down the mountainside.

The avalanche began to tear through the League’s scattering forces, swallowing them up in its greedy flow. Transfixed by the sight she missed Ra’s regaining his feet and his howl of rage. It wasn’t until he was nearly on top of her, his sword threatening, that Felicity recognized her predicament. She scuttled backwards, eyes wide with fear, but from the man or the wave of snow she wasn’t certain.

She heard a swish and felt the briefest tug across her side before strong arms wrapped around her, twisting and turning her up onto a horse.

 _Oliver_.

He'd come for her. The pounding hooves reverberated through her body as snow started to pool around them, trying to pull them under. Felicity could feel the strong physique of the horse straining to fight against the current of snow. Ahead of them stood their only chance of survival, a large jutting of rocks which the others had already taken refuge behind.

The cantering animal leapt, clipping its way dangerously up the uneven rock face. An unsure step led it to stumble and they careened over the edge. Landing with a hard thud, horse and humans rolled over each other and perilously close to the open edge of the pass.

While the highest tide of snow slammed against the protective barrier rough hands reached out, tugging at man and beast, getting them safely to their feet.

As the rumble subsided and her world rightened cheers filled the air. Over the boisterous noise Oliver pounded her back and declared, “Felix you are the craziest man I've ever met! For that we owe you our lives.”

Felicity beamed, and her lips stretched even wider when Roy hollered, “Let’s hear it for Felix, the bravest of us all!” There were more shouts ringing in her ears but as she stepped forward to welcome her friends’ thanks, she flinched in pain. She pressed a hand to her side and when she withdrew it Felicity found it covered in blood. The sight of her stained hand made her feel woozy and her vision grayed as Diggle called out to her in concern.

The last thing she was conscious of was the feel of Oliver’s presence once again surrounding her.

 

* * *

 

**How could I make a man out of you?**

She awoke groggy and sore, but her mind cleared quickly under the intense ferocity of Oliver’s unforgiving eyes and the confused faces of her friends.

Her secret was out.

Wells demanded swift execution of the penalty for her insolence – death – to be carried out. Her own words of explanation and the protests of her closest allies seemed to fall on deaf ears as Oliver advanced on her kneeling form, even injured Felicity hated that she’d been so easily tossed to the ground, sword in hand.  

Disheartened and aching, the urge to fight her fate fled her and Felicity could not stop her body from cringing as she awaited the fatal stroke.

The sound of the weapon clattering against the icy ground was the last thing she expected, but when she dared to shift her gaze from her clasped hands it laid before her. Confused Felicity glanced up at Oliver. The remote, distrustful look was back on his handsome face. He was back to being the aloof Captain she encountered that first day. “A life for a life,” he stated, his voice emotionless, and with that the _Captain_ turned on his heel. He never bothered to look back at her as Wells argued his decision.

She could feel her eyes pleading with the others as they turned to follow their commander’s lead. Barry, Roy, and Diggle hesitated. Her boys waited until the last of men had bowed to the silent order before they turned themselves to leave, Barry mouthing a silent, “I’m sorry,” as they went.

Her world had gone from cheers to abandonment in a horrifyingly short order. The righteous indignation she’d felt while defending her actions had vanished and the yawning heartache that followed left her feeling hallow.

Felicity did not try to stem the tears that rolled down her chilled cheeks. She let them fall freely as she curled into herself overwhelmed by the physical and emotional pain she had endured.

***

The increasing bloom of pain from the shudders wracking her body is what finally forced Felicity to move and take stock of her situation. She’d been left with the tent she’d awoken in, her pack stocked with dwindling supplies, and her horse Khan. Some thoughtful individual, if she had to guess she would say Diggle, had left a pile of dry, flammable items to keep a small fire going.

She had her life and Felicity knew she should be grateful for that but the shame her outed return would bring upon her family made her wonder if they would be better off with her death. The moment she dared to think that though she recalled the lovingly way her mother called her “My precious baby girl,” and knew no matter the circumstances she would always be welcomed home.

That had been her plan, rest for the evening and in the morning begin the journey home to the Glades and her family. They may not have the honor they deserved in the eyes of others, but they would have each other and Felicity knew that was more than enough. It had, after all, been the driving factor in her decision to risk everything when she took her father’s place.

Felicity overslept by the standard she’d become accustomed to and saw to her morning needs gingerly, hissing out in discomfort as she twisted while dressing. Saddling Khan was difficult, she broke out in a fine sweat with the effort it took. She was wheezing, using her unsure grip on Khan’s dark silky mane to keep her standing, and trying to figure out how to get first her pack and then herself up onto his back when an unearthly bellow filled the air.

Adrenaline shot through her, masking her pain and propelling her jerky movement – hauling and securing her pack before dragging herself up onto Khan. Instead of directing her horse towards home Felicity urged him towards the cacophony of shouts that had wafted out in response to that first unexpected yell. Though she’d anticipated what she might find, seeing a handful of League forces circling their leader still came as a shock. That they managed to survive the avalanche seemed preposterous.

From the safety of her hidden perch Felicity spied on Ra’s and his sect. There was dark haired, blue eye man with sharp facial bones called Al Sa-her. The man to his right, who answered to name Darhk, was slightly shorter and stockier with extremely pale skin and near white hair that made his light blue eyes stand out vividly. The oldest man, Al-Owal, had a massively receding cropped hair line and a salt and pepper beard; while the youngest – she believed him to be called Sarab – had a sun-kissed golden hue to his skin and long black hair held thin ponytail down his back.

She listened with growing dread as Ra’s informed his men that they would be pressing on into Starling. “I do not need an army to take this land,” he snarled undeterred by the great loss he’d sustained. “When I force the Emperor to bow before me his subjects will capitulate.” Every warrior standing before him nodded, their belief in their leader unwavering.

In her condition Felicity knew there was no way she could stop the lethal band. There was only one way to prevent Ra’s plan, she had to travel to Star City and warn everyone of the danger creeping into the heart of their kingdom.

***

Her ride had been hard and desperate, the ache in her side becoming increasing unbearable, but she did not slow because the Emperor’s life was in danger. Felicity had mishandled so much recently and this – this she could not fail. It went beyond her own selfish desires and her family’s well-being. The whole kingdom was at stake.

Coming across her battalion made her feel like her fortune was finally changing, but when her report was dismissed she cried out, “Why is Felicity different?” She had all but demanded an answer to that question with her biting tone and harsh look, but Oliver had merely shaken her off and proceeded with the celebratory parade towards the palace.

Felix he had trusted, but Felicity was not even deemed worthy of his consideration.

She wasn’t certain if it was the hurt on her face or his belief in his fellow solider that had Diggle promising to keep an eye out, but she was grateful for his show of support. Roy and Barry signaled they’d do the same as they carried on with the procession. As much as she trusted her friends, Felicity was uncertain what good three men could do when everyone else she beseeched ignored her warning.

As far as the city was concerned the League had been defeated and the kingdom was once again safe. A mere woman spouting off otherwise was an unwelcomed intrusion, which is how the horrifying scene playing out before her was allowed to happen.

She watched, heart and mind racing, as the League burst forth from their ingenious hiding spot – they’d had traveled through the city and up the steps of the palace, almost to the feet of the Emperor, in a festive dragon costume. They slaughtered guards as they dashed up the steps to where the Emperor stood and once they were level with him they encircled his position, trapping him.

The deadly collective was within a hairsbreadth of the Emperor, with one deliberate movement any one of them could end his life, which kept the band of soldiers – the ones she’d tried to warn – from acting. Fear of costing the Emperor his life had them hesitating. Even in this tortuous moment Felicity couldn’t help but think that golden robes complimented the sepia shade of the Emperor’s skin, which added to the regal aura he exuded. The Emperor’s dark eyes appeared near black with determination as he stood before the leader of the League. He gave no indication of displeasure when the invader called him by his given name of Walter, a sign of great disrespect that drew more cries of distress from the crowd then when he’d been ordered to bow before Ra’s al Ghul.

The Emperor continued to stand unperturbed in front of his enemy, and when he spoke, his voice was crisp and imperial, accented with the cultural lilt of the royal court. “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it.”

Anger broke across Ra’s face, causing the veins in his neck to pop as he stalked towards the Emperor. “Then you will kneel in _pieces_!” he spat the promise and with a quick signal towards his men they shuffled the Emperor up the stone staircase and into the palace, cutting off the surging forces who followed to aid their liege.

***

The next twenty minutes were a blur that seemed both achingly slow and lightning fast in Felicity’s mind. The only constant had been the repetitive thudding of a large stone statuary; it was pounded against the palace doors in hopes of tearing through ancient construction. It would take eons to break through the sturdy edifice of wood and metal, it only took three concussive strikes of the statue against door for her to realize that and know that if they wanted to reach the Emperor they needed to find another way.

The pillars studded around the palace reminded her of the pole at camp and suddenly Felicity had a plan. Her boys followed her unquestioningly when she said had an alternative way to get to the Emperor. What surprised and pleased her was that Oliver joined them for their climb up the pillars and into the palace.

As Diggle, Roy and Barry mopped up stragglers from their brutal sneak attack against the small but elite force of League members who’d been standing guard she and Oliver charged towards where Ra’s held the Emperor. He was still trying to bend their ruler to his will in front of the eyes of his subjects.

Their plan was simple, distract Ra’s long enough so they could use the decorative lanterns as a means of escape for the Emperor – once he was lost in the crowd below there would be no opportunity for Ra’s to find him again. It had all been going in their favor until the moment Felicity had to decide whether to slide to safety and leave Ra’s looming over Oliver or to cut off their only guaranteed path of escape and assure the Emperor’s safety.

There was no choice to make. Felicity could not leave an injured Oliver alone at the mercy Ra’s al Ghul. After severing the line everything went pear-shaped. She could remember taunting Ra’s with the fact that she’d been the solider on the mountain that had thwarted him, but little else that had transpired was crisp in her mind. The only thing that had stood out in the end was using Ra’s fury to be his undoing.

Before she could comprehend that they had succeeded in defeating the enemy Felicity found herself standing in front of the Emperor. She stood dazed, initially held entranced by the Emperor’s inscrutable gaze, as he addressed her – _her_ – directly. As he continued to speak she lowered her eyes in an act of fealty and contrition.

“You stole your father's armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonored the Starling Army, destroyed my palace, _and_ ,” his voice had gotten more severe with each indictment and with the added emphasis to the listing of final charge Felicity winced, “... you have saved us all.” These words were said loudly so the gathered throng could hear and were steeped with appreciation. Felicity chanced a glance up at the Emperor and when their eyes met again he gifted her with a smile before bowing to her.

Her gasp filled the air and Felicity found herself blinking, certain that when she opened her eyes the man who had so willfully denied this honor to Ra’s al Ghul would not be bowing to her. _Her_. When her eyes opened again the Emperor’s head was still down in deference and she watched stunned as her friends and the assembled crowd followed their ruler’s footsteps and kneeled. Most awe-inspiring of all, Oliver was the one to lead the way, reassuring her that he had not lost the admiration he felt for her.

Her heart filled with gratitude, and admittedly a little pride, at the honor being bestowed upon her by this grand gesture. Felicity felt tears prick her eyes as the knowledge that she had not failed her father or brought disgrace upon her family took hold.

 

* * *

 

 **You must be swift as a coursing river**  
**With all the force of a great typhoon**  
**With all the strength of a raging fire**  
**Mysterious as the dark side of the moon**

She traveled home with the seal of the Emperor and the sword of Ra’s al Ghul, gifts given to honor her family. When she presented them to her father, Quentin cast them aside and wrapped his trembling arms around her, pulling her tight against him. He took a moment to breathe her in, to accept the fact that she was indeed home and back in the safety his embrace before he declared, “There is no greater gift than having you for a daughter.”

Felicity burrowed into his hold, each of them squeezing the other tighter, afraid that the moment would end and they’d find it to be a dream. Enthusiastic arms wrapped around them both followed by a delighted squeal, “My baby!” as her mother joined in the reunion, peppering them both with kisses. Her father laughed, deep and easy, and they loosened their grip on each other so they both could encircle a now freed arm around Donna.

Their joyful reunion was interrupted a few minutes later by a muted clearing of a throat and then a shy voice asking, “Does Felicity Smoak live here?”

Her head snapped up and her eyes went wide at the sight of Oliver standing in their courtyard. As an awkward silence settled over them, he shuffled his feet nervously. Donna nudged her, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your—”

“Oliver,” she blurted out. “Though he’s not _my_ Oliver,” Felicity babbled, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. When her words caught up with her, her face scrunched and she quickly tried to course correct the conversation with, “He’s my Captain.”

“Friend,” Oliver amended instantly. He smiled softly as he stated, “I’m Felicity’s friend.”

She beamed at his words, causing her father to hurumph unhappily. Her mother shushed him with a wave of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Oliver,” she greeted getting to her feet. Donna brushed her outfit, straightening her appearance, as she and her father stood. Once she was up her mother’s attention went to fixing her clothes as her father did his best to stare down Oliver.

“Mother,” she groaned pushing away intrusive hands.

Undeterred her mother suggested, “Baby why don’t you show your _friend_ our home–”

“Donna,” Quentin groaned her name with all of the exasperation he felt. If her parents’ antics hadn’t added to her sense of mortification Felicity would have found them adorable. Ignoring their discomfort, her mother walked right up to Oliver and pushed up on her toes so that she could kiss his cheek. “Don’t mind them dear,” she told him with an appreciative pat to his chest, “you’re welcome to stay forever.”

It was his turn to blush and Felicity found herself captivated by his rosy cheeks and the hopeful glint in his eyes.  She couldn’t help but wish that his appearance meant that Oliver planned on taking up her mother’s invitation because she very much wanted him to stay. And forever had a nice ring to it. As if sensing her daughter’s thoughts Donna led her protesting father away, leaving her and Oliver to figure out what would happen next.

***

As it turned out Oliver did end up staying forever.


End file.
